“No. I mean, I thought you had vampy stuff you had to do tonight?”
His fangs slid into my neck as he drew in my blood, my body throbbing in time with each pull. I supposed it didn’t get more vampy than that. I was going up in flames and couldn’t think past Clive. Only Clive.
His hand dragged across my stomach and then slid down between my legs. When had I lost my pants? His clever fingers teased and swirled as I squirmed on the sheets.
Clive, now, please.
He took one last swallow as his fingers sent me over the edge and I was floating on waves of pleasure. I was only vaguely aware he was moving and then his mouth was on me everywhere, kissing and suckling, as he moved down my body.
When his tongue replaced his fingers, I was shooting up and over again, exhausted, energized, and blissed out.
He moved up my body, grabbed my hips, lifted, and then plunged into me. I lost my breath again. Straining, I wrapped my legs around him, meeting him stroke for stroke. The pressure built until my mind blanked and my body exploded.
Flying. This time, Clive was right there with me.
Vibrating, skin oversensitized, I ran my hands up and down his back as he slid down my body, resting his head on my breast.
While I was getting my breath back, I told him, It’s amazing how quickly I got used to having you all to myself when we left the nocturne. I ran my fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. Coming here meant losing you to vampy meetings again for most of the night—which is fine. You need to do what interests and fulfills you—but it’s awfully nice to have you all to myself, even for a little while.
He kissed the side of my breast and then rose, resting on his elbows, so he could see my face. Which makes this harder to ask. Would you mind terribly if we stayed a little longer? You’re right. Something rotten is festering in the Guild. We could leave and let someone else deal with it, but who? And how long before we have more coming after us?
He kissed me again. There’s something wrong with Sebastian. We were never close, but I’ve met with him on multiple occasions over the centuries. I tried peppering a few comments, a couple of memories, into our conversation, looking for recognition. It wasn’t there. If that really is Sebastian, he’s been altered in some way.
Are they connected? I thought of the nightmares, the ghosts, vampires, and Renfields. This place is filled with the strongest ghosts I’ve ever encountered. The asylum memories I’ve relived have been horrendous. The cruelty is unreal, and yet not. I’ve read about nineteenth century mental asylums and, yes, a lot of what’s happened tracks with those accounts, but a hidden werewolf? That slow heartbeat you and Vlad hear? I’ve been on edge ever since you guys told me that. Is another supernatural creature, like the wolf, imprisoned here?
Clive rubbed his cheek against my own. We’ll find out.
Is it this place? Is it the building that’s cursed and therefore cursing all who enter? I asked.
I rather hope not, but you’re right. Something’s going on and we need to figure out what it is.
Twenty-Three
A Bloody Mess
It was late, or I suppose quite early, so Clive and I relaxed under the covers. I turned onto my side and he moved in behind me, wrapping an arm around me.
“Go ahead and sleep, love. It’s been a long day and night,” he said. “I’ll watch over you.”
I’d intended to stay awake and talk. Unfortunately, too little sleep did me in and I was out.
I’m walking across the cold white marble of the entry and hear whispering. I stop at the door to the gathering room, where the voice seems to be coming from but find only Sebastian, standing alone in front of the fireplace. Head tilted up, his focus is on the dark-eyed, angry man in the frame. I can’t hear what’s being said but I see the portrait’s lips moving. I take a step toward them and they both turn to glare with murder in their eyes. I flinch and then…
I’m climbing stairs. With each step, the staircase flashes, strobing between clean and bright and old and dingy. Where is this? No one’s mentioned the upper floors of this building. I assumed they hadn’t been remodeled yet. At the top, I step out into another ward, white—leaning toward gray—tiles beneath my feet. A Gray Dress hurries down the hall, her arms laden with an overflowing basket of dirty linens.
Muffled cries and shouts from locked rooms echo down the hall, but I don’t follow the Gray Dress. Instead, I see the back of a woman I think is Léna turn down the far left hall. A dark wood floor shines in the low light. Wait. Where are the white walls and tile?
I look back to the right. Where a moment ago a Gray Dress was, I see more dark wood, carved moldings, a bookcase, and a different portrait of the angry man.
I follow the back of the girl I’d seen earlier. This place looks nothing like the asylum, so I suppose it must not have been Léna. Unless she’s guiding me through others’ memories now. My head hurts. I wish I knew what was going on.
Crossing to what I think of as the men’s side of the asylum, I turn the corner and feel immediately chilled. There’s no lamp, so even the weak, yellow light I’ve accustomed myself to is gone. It’s deeply shadowed, the only dim light coming from open doorways along the hall. Where did the woman go?
I stop and look through a doorway, finding only dust and a stripped mattress on a metal frame. The image flickers and it’s a plush sitting room. A woman with large, frightened eyes sits in a chair, her hands clutched in her lap, her knuckles white. Flicker. An empty asylum room.
I don’t like this. The whole place gives me the creeps, but this hall in particular has a bad feel. Just being here makes me wish for a long, hot shower to wash away the sticky grime of cruelty and abuse.
Looming at the end of the hall is a tall wooden double door. It looks nothing like anything else in the asylum, nothing like the remodeled Guild. Heart racing, I don’t want to go anywhere near it. I feel the evil from here, but I can’t stop my legs from carrying me closer, can’t stop myself from reaching out and pushing open the door.
